


The Way We Love in Blood

by superloserwriter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Character Turned Into Vampire, Falling In Love, First Time, Kissing, Love Confessions, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Smut, Switching, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:05:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superloserwriter/pseuds/superloserwriter
Summary: Steve is a priest in a small town. Nothing really big happens in this town except the occasional lost dog or robbery. But soon the local news reports strange and similar deaths. All around the same time a mysterious stranger, with beautiful eyes, arrives in town. But what Steve doesn't know is that this stranger past runs deeper than Steve's sins. And that the strangers past has finally caught up with him.





	The Way We Love in Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This little story was inspired by the lovely Umikochannart and her beautiful art. This is based on he Feverish AU. I hope you enjoy!

   Today was Sunday. Meaning Steve had to wake up earlier than the rest of the week. Which was fine. It was just part of the duties of being a priest. Plus Steve had always been an early riser, ever since he was a child. Steve could remember many mornings, as a child, when he’d wake up, just before his mother. Just so he could say goodbye and wish her a good day at work. He remembers her smiling sweetly at him. She’d kiss him on the cheek or forehead, then head out for the day; not to return until the late hours of the night.

  
   So getting up early was easier for him than most.

  
   Once Steve was dressed, he had a light breakfast, then left for the church; as he did every day. Steve liked to walk to the church. He didn’t live far and he liked to walk around this time. When it was still dark, but you could see the sun just starting to rise over the mountains. And it was quiet. So very quiet.

  
   Some days it felt as if Steve could never have peace and quiet. The constant buzzing of cars, people, and prayers. It was nice just to enjoy the silence. A silence that not even the birds have not yet disturbed.

  
   But soon Steve was in front of the church and he knew his moments of peace wouldn’t return to him again until he went to bed. Steve walked in through the huge oak doors and spotted Father Michael standing there at the altar.

  
   He didn’t notice Steve at first, but when the doors shut, sending an echo through the church, Father Michael looked up from the large bible and spotted Steve. He gave Steve a warm smile. Father Michael was a kind, old gentleman who had dedicated his whole life to the church. Everyone, in the small town they lived in, knew Father Michael and treated him with the utmost respect. Even the people who didn’t go to church.

  
   “Good morning Steven,” Father Michael greeted, his voice warm and clear, “How did you sleep?”

  
   “Well, Father,” Steve lied, “thank you for asking.”

  
   Father Michael held his stare, without saying anything for a moment. He knew Steve was lying. And Steve knew that Father Michael knew that he was lying, but he, thankfully, didn’t push the subject.

  
   Sleep was always a gamble for Steve. Some nights he’d fall asleep without any problem. Most nights, however, Steve was plagued by nightmares of war or by his...unholy affliction.

  
   “Do you mind straightening up the pews for me?” Father Michael asked, “Make sure they’re clean before mass.”

  
   “Of course,” Steve gave a small smile and did what he was asked.  
____________________________________________________________

   During service, Steve saw  _him_ again. Steve did not know his name or where he came from or anything. But Steve saw him there. The man sitting at the very last pew. like he did every Sunday. Some people probably wouldn’t have noticed him, but Steve was a soldier. He noticed every detail. It was a part of survival back then and now it was just a part of his everyday life. It was a habit that Steve didn’t want to break.

  
   The man had long hair, just below his chin and pale skin. He always wore long sleeve, even though it grew quite hot in the church after an hour or two of mass. He also wore gloves. But his eyes, his eyes were the most fascinating of all. The man didn’t look up often, kept his eyes mostly downcast. But in those rare moments when Steve would get a flash of his eyes, he was blown away each time.

  
   They were beautiful, snow blue. They bordered lined unnatural blue. But they were so lovely to look at that Steve didn’t really question it.

  
   The man arrived around three months ago. And he’d never spoken a word to anyone. But, of course, rumored did spread. Normally after Mass, the nuns of the church would sit and talk gossip. Trying to be secretive about it, but failing quite miserably. Steve lately all the talk was about the man with the gorgeous blue eyes. It seemed that he had become a popular topic around the small town.

  
   “He moved into the old mansion-” 

  
   “The one on the hill?”

  
   “Yes.”

  
   “No one knows his name-”

  
   “I wonder where he came from-”

  
   “I heard he’s on the run-”

  
   “I heard a family member of his died-”

  
   “Have you see the way he dresses? How can he afford-”

  
   “I find him creepy.”

  
   Steve found himself(yet again) listening to the hushed whispers of the nuns. He pretended to be occupied with something else. But he was so curious about the stranger with the blue eyes that Steve resorted to the town gossip for information. Not a reliable source, but interesting nonetheless.

  
   Soon the day was beginning to end and the night was rising. Steve bid farewell to Father Michael(who always stayed late) and began to walk home.  
The walk home wasn’t quite like that morning, but the noises of the world were beginning to die down. And hopefully, by the time he was ready to attempt sleep, the silence would be the only thing to accompany Steve.

  
   Steve got home and cooked himself a small dinner. Working long hours made his appetite disappear. But Steve forced himself to eat.While he ate, Steve had the TV on. Just the local news channel, Steve liked to know what was happening in his town. Mostly it was just simple things. Things like the new local business opening, lost dog reports, etc. But today was much more terrifying

.  
   “Today, around 8:30, a group of local teenagers were walking through a hiking trail in Blackwood forest. But it is reported that halfway through a girl., wishes to remain anonymous, said she spotted something off the trail. Thinking it was someone's fallen tent, she and her four other friends went to investigate. But what they found was the bodies of two men.” the women said instantly grabbing Steve’s attention. Sending chills down Steve’s spine. Nothing like this had ever happened in this too small of a town.  
Still, the story wasn’t over, “Police say there are definite signs of foul play. And the two victims have yet to be identified. But quoting both the teenagers and the police ‘it a bloody horrible sight’.

  
  Steve went to bed soon after that.  
____________________________________________________________

   Steve woke up sweaty and breathing hard. No, this time it wasn't a nightmare. Far from it. But he dream was a sin.  
A sin he had tried so hard to eliminate, to  _burn_ and  _bleed_ out of him. But no matter how many he punished himself, no matter how many prayers he chanted, this sin wouldn’t go away.

  
   This  _lust for men_ was wrong. At least that's what Steve told himself. One part of him wanted to relish the feelings, wanted Steve to give in. But Steve stopped himself, instead inflicted pain on himself. A punishment of sorts. 

  
   Steve got out of bed and stripped until nothing but his cross remained. Then he went to his closet. In the very back, he kept a riding crop, one meant for horseback riding. Steve took it and went into his bathroom. He turned on the light and felt sham run through him as he saw his hard cock pressed up against his stomach. He shook his head then when to the bathtub.

  
   Steve kneeled down and took a few moments to breathe. To ready himself. Then he brought the whip down, hard, against his thighs. He watched as an angry red line formed. Then Steve did it again and again and again. Steve did it until his thighs were gushing blood, did it until everything he hit little splashes of blood flew up to Steve's face from the impact.

  
   Steve was in pain, agonizing, _burning_ , pain, but at least his hard-on had gone down. Which was what he was going for.

  
   His white tub was stained red now, but Steve had done this so many times he knew how to clean it. He turned the shower on and cold water washed over Steve. It washed away the blood and chilled Steve to the bone.

  
  



End file.
